After Harry Potter
by Eagle-Of-The-Ninth
Summary: 2017, and it's time for the new generation of Witches and Wizards to go off to school.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello all you fanfiction-ers. This is my second attempt at writing a decent Fanfiction. Don't bother reading my first one, it's both horrible and also a one-off. Enjoy! **

"_Hufflepuff_!"

Jee. Thanks, Mr. Sorting Hat. Just where I wanted to be. Hufflepuff. The hardworking. The best thing you can possibly say about me is that I'm _hardworking_? I'm not smart, or ambitious or brave, just hardworking. Lovely. On top of that, I don't know anyone. If I was in Ravenclaw, at least I would know Bridget. Not that I would like it very much, but at least I would know her. Or Slytherin, where Luke's a prefect, but no. I get the Goddamn hardworking. Okay, so maybe Hufflepuff is credited with being loyal, but when was the last time we won the House Cup? An ancient time ago, probably when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Lovely.

Luke's looking a little disappointed as I shuffle off the stool. (My feet couldn't touch the ground; I was too short and needed Professor Lovegood to help me off. How embarrassing) and walk halfheartedly towards the cheering Hufflepuffs. I'm slightly wet, as it started drizzling when we were halfway across the great lake. I make a futile attempt to wring out my long strawberry-blonde hair as I take a seat between two boys who look like they could use a good taste of army life. I'm only barely hearing the names called out in a sort of sing-song voice from Professor Lovegood.

"Faron, Alex." (Slytherin)

"Faron, Trevor." (Slytherin)

"Gronn, Sue." (Gryffindor)

"Gunn, Paul." (Ravenclaw)

"Inliter, Tracy." (Slytherin)

God, aren't there any more Hufflepuffs?

"Lanchester, Lori." (Ravenclaw)

"Naretinton, Anne." (Gryffindor) Ha! what an idiotic last name!

"Malfoy, Scorpius." (Slytherin) Figures, doesn't it?

"Potter, Albus." The whole room starts whispering. Poor kid. Such big shoes to fill. As soon as the hat touches his head it shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" so loudly I think I might fall off the bench. I wonder briefly how much longer this will go on for. I'm starting to get hungry, despite the 4 cauldron cakes, 2 pumpkin pasties, 12 chocolate frogs and one packet of the goddamn ton-tongue toffees that Bridget convinced me were 'safe'. My tongue still feels sore.

"Rinn,Kate." (Hufflepuff). A tall, very lanky, ridiculously pale, knocked kneed freckled girl practically floats towards the table, her frizzy black hair puffed up like an afro.

"Hi," she whispers to me cheerfully.

"Hey," I mumble back unhappily.

"Weasley, Rose." (Gryffindor). Yet another 'it figures' moment.

"Woodrow, Michael." (Hufflepuff) Another tall, dark skinned boy starts shuffling towards the table. He's got broad shoulders and messy brown hair that sits on his head like a mop. Just before he gets to the table, he somehow manages to trip over flat ground. Great. Just what Hufflepuff needs - another klutz. The entire hall erupts into laughter and he blushes beetroot red. Poor kid. I want to get up and help him, but, well, I'm shy. he gets up on his own accord and sits down next to Kate, putting his head in his hands. She smiles at him, but he doesn't see.

Headmaster Thomas walks up to the golden pulpit to start his speech. I believe his full name is Rudolphus Baruffio Thomas, and he looks like he deserves it, too. He's a tall man who fairly resembles a mouse or some other rodent. Although I'm relatively far away from where he's standing, I can see his ice-blue eyes are unreadable. But he looks as though he's getting ready to speak, and about time too. I'm starving!

"Welcome one, and welcome all," he starts in a low-pitched voice. " I am a man of few words, but there are some basic rules that you all must adhere to. First, no first-years or second-years in Hogsmeade. Secondly, our keeper, Mr. Smith, has included so many items from 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' on the banned items list, that I will say what _is _allowed rather than what isn't, to save time. Edible Dark-Marks, while hideously vulgar, are delicious and allowed. Bruise Remover Paste is allowed, and we have a large tube in the Hospital wing if you might find need of it. Guaranteed Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher, Reusable Hangman and various muggle magic tricks are allowed. Next, the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. Finally, students may not be out after bed hours. Now that the formalities are out of the way, I offer you the wise words once given to me by Albus Dumbledore himself: tuck in, everyone!"

With that, the impressive solid-gold plates (aren't we in a recession?) in front of me fill with the most amazing array of stews, meats, drinks, potatoes, and food in general that I have ever seen in my eleven years on this planet. I immediately fill my bowl with Irish stew, and my plate with a menagerie of chicken, steak, pork chops, baked potatoes, bread rolls and anything else that's in my reach. Even after I'm full and the food is replaced with dessert, I successfully eat half a cake, some jelly and a half a gallon of ice-cream. I lick my fingers noisily and annoyingly. So I'm a fan of food, big deal.

"How did you do that?" Michael asks with amazement, leaning over. He left half of his food on the plate. I pat my enormous and very content belly.

"There's a method to it," I explain, slightly pompously. I take great pride in my art. "Well, first I ask myself, am I hungry? The answer's always yes. Then I ask myself, will this food taste good? The answer's always yes. If at least one answer is yes, then I stuff myself. If neither answer is yes, then I stuff myself anyway." I grin. He laughs, seeming to have forgotten the embarrassment of earlier. Kate starts talking. Very fast. It sounds a little like this; "Ohmygoodness, I'msoexcitedtobeinHogwarts!BothmyparentswereinHufflepuf fandnowIamtoo!I'mrealylookingforwardtoAstron omyandPotionsandMuggleStudie sandallthatstuffandmy mumsaidthatIcouldstayherefor Christmas!Howcoolisthat?"

I tune out after about 5 minutes of her unceasing babble. Looking up at the teacher's table, I can only recognize Professor Lovegood. Well, she's hard to miss, with her long platnum blonde hair, and her earings shaped like an enormous Sun and moon. I can se why Bridget likes Charms so much. Eventually, Kate pauses to take a deep breath. Then she turns to Michael.

"I'm sorry," she says, now at a more reasonable pace, "My name's Kate."

"Mike," Michael smiles sheepishly. They turn to me expectantly.

"Jane. Jane Detries," I sigh. I've always hated my name. It's, well, boring. Kind of like me, to be honest. No specialities at all - no lightning scar, no girl genius, no charisma, no talent in anything, really. I try to convince myself almost on a daily basis that my talents lie in a corner I haven't discovered yet, and it's nearly worked. Oh, well.

"Nice to meet you, Jane," Kate smiles. Despite her annoying friendliness, I find myself liking her.

Later, our Head Girl and Boy lead us down, near the kitchens, to our Common Room.

"Now remember, first-years," the Head Girl says in a painfully patronizing voice, "you tap the second barrel from the bottom in the middle, and you must tap in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. That's tap-tap, pause, tap-tap-tap. Okay?"

"Yes," a mumble rises up from the few of us.

"Okay, then." She taps the barrel and we clamber through the doorway that appears. I need a little boost, though. I fall into the common room, and am taken by the earthy feeling to it. The windows near the top of the rounded look out onto a beautiful meadow, and the moonlight streams through. There's a large, rounded fireplace in the middle of the wall, and on either side there are doors that look like huge barrels. I'm amazed, and I can see the other first-years are too. This surpasses my expectations slightly.

"Right then, girls off to the right, boys to the left," our Head Boy barks gruffly. I meander off, and jump through the doorway, which is elevated off the ground a couple of inches off the ground. I manage and walk down some stairs into a low-lit round room. There's five beds, so I'm likely to be sharing a room with at least one second year student, as there's only been four first-year girls Sorted. I change into my nightgown and crawl between the duvets.

I put my head on the soft pillow and think about what Luke's doing right now. Or Bridget. Hey, I can't help but wonder about my brother and sister. My last thought before dropping off is what my first subject might be tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

I pull myself out of the warm, soft bed and onto the cold, cold floor. I walk up the stairs to find that it must be about 6:30-ish. Even at this time, I'm only second up. In the middle of the floor, placed an arms**-**length away from the fireplace, is Michael. Looking rather upset, I might add. After a slight internal battle, I gather the courage to sit next to him. He doesn't notice.

"Morning," I try to say brightly, but it comes out as a mumble.

"Mrmerfermer to you too," he sighs sarcastically. I make an annoyed sound.

"So, why up so early?" I ask, trying to be a little more eloquent.

"Why do you want to know?" He asks looking at me sharply. I'm a little taken back.

"No need to get snappy," I snap.

"Oh?" he snaps back.

"Yes. So why are you up?" I ask irritably.

"Humph, you wouldn't understand, you Hobbit," he mumbles, looking away.I hold back from yelling abuse at him_.Keep your cool, Jane, you might actually make friends at this school, _my conscience says. I take a deep breath.

"Try me," I say, instead of what I would have liked to say. That would be too rude to mention in polite company.

"Well, I'm.." He seems to struggle with finishing his sentence.

"Yes?" I ask impatiently.

"A..."

"Yes?"

"A...A...A m-mudblood." He finally manages. I flinch at the word 'mudblood'.

"Muggleborn," I correct, "A _muggleborn,_if you would."

"There, I feel really out of place here. I mean, this fire," He says, gesturing to the enormous fireplace.

"Yeah?" I ask, not quite getting it.

"Well didn't you notice that it burned a little brighter when you got angry?"

"No," I say, embarrassed. The fire goes slightly pinker.

"See? It responds to emotion," He says, slightly exasperated.

"Muggle fires don't do that?" I ask, completely bewildered. We have these kinds of fires at home. My mum's a great witch.

"No, they don't, see I told you you wouldn't understand! I told you!" h**e** yells, standing up, "I'm going back to bed."

"Alright," I mumble.

He goes through the door and I'm left on my own. I take this as an opportunity to get changed, and I bring out my favourite Book, _Mice _By gordon Rece. Really good book, even if it is Ryan gave it to me for my birthday last year. He is my Dad's younger brother. He was, if Dad didn't exaggerate, the only one who turned up for the wedding. Nobody else thought that it was a good idea to marry a witch. He's a Muggle, you see, my Dad. Went to St. Peter's in Oxford. My thoughts are interrupted by a large splash outside the common room. I get up, and climb through the exit. There's a strong smell and large puddles of vinegar. I see some shoes running off to the left. Whoever they were, they were trying to break in! I don't think and run off after them. What if it wasn't a student? What if it was a criminal, who had appeared inside the grounds? What if...wait. I stop dead in my tracks as the sound of footsteps fade away. Where am I? I went...left, I think, no right, no. God! I'm lost! It's at this point that a ghost comes floating by.

"Out of bed rather early, aren't we?" the Bloody Baron smirks.

"Uh..." I panic, "I.."

"Hmm, I should report you to Mr. Smith," He chuckles. The silvery blood dribbles down his front

"No! Please, I'm lost!" I cry.

"Lost, eh? What were you doing out of bed in the first place?" He smirks again.

"Just, help me get back to the Hufflepuff common room," I say, panicking a little more. When suddenly, I get an idea.

"Wait, you're the Slytherin ghost. aren't you?" I ask, excitedly.

"Yes," he replies, somewhat suspicious. Some more silvery blood spills onto the floor and evaporates.

"Well, I'm Luke's sister," I say happily, "And he talks about you all the time!" Half truth, he mentions him once or twice in his letters home.

"Ah, Luke Detries, I know the boy well," he says, looking up and apparently remembering good times.

"Well, could you help me?" I ask desperately.

"No," he says. Is that apology in his voice?

"No?" I repeat, unbelieving

"No, but I can find the Fat Friar for you," He suggests, "Anything for a Detries."

"That would be perfect!" I sigh with relief.

"Alright, just wait here," he says, then floats off. A few minutes later, he comes back, and Mr. Smith is following him.

"Yes, that's the one. Out of bed before hours. Tsk, tsk," the Bloody Baron tuts.

"All righ' come wi' me, little 'n" Mr. Smith says, spitting slightly. Mr. Smith is exactly as horrible as Bridget and Luke described. He's tall, despite his hunch, and he's balding something terrible. He's missing several teeth, but has all of his canines. I think he's actually sharpened them. His clothes are too big, and have been eaten by several generations of moths, and the breath, phew! Has he ever even heard of toothpaste? He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me away, the Bloody Baron smirking behind us.

"But, you said..." I yell at him angrily.

"I hate your brother," he calls after me, and floats away. Just like that. Note to self: never trust a ghost.

I'm dragged towards the headmaster's office. We reach the famous gargoyle, that Luke has come face-to-face with so many times. Yeah, he has a little bit of an issue with following the rules sometimes.

"Godric" Mr. Smith spits. The Gargoyle jumps aside and I'm pushed in. I look around the enormous room. There're tones of bookcases, with the books stacked neatly inside, and a huge fireplace. Like, bigger then me. There's a cage with a barn owl inside, hooting noisily. The headmaster's desk is made of oak, with a few chips and scratches on the legs. Professor Thomas is sitting in a huge chair, and Albus Potter is talking to him. I walk timidly forward, with Mr. Smith following close behind.

"...Yes, I understand Albus. Hogwarts is a big place, after all. If I understand, your father or lost once of twice. I tend to get lost myself," He says slowly, nodding with understanding.

"Ahem, Professor, I caugh' 'is student out o' bed," Mr. Smith says with an unhealthy sounding cough

"Ah, Mr. Smith. Your arrival is perfectly timed. Could you escort Albus back to his Common Room?" Professor Thomas says, completely ignoring me.

"Yes sir," he mumbles, walking away with Albus following him.

"Now then, out of bed, are we?" he asks, slightly less kindly then when he was talking to Albus.

"Yes sir, but-" I start helplessly

"But nothing. Rules are in place for a reason," he says briskly, putting up an aged hand.

"I got lost," I try.

"Why were you up in the first place?" he asks skeptically.

"Because I heard someone trying to break into the common room!" I say, making wild hand gestures, "There was vinegar everywhere!"

"Really?" he says, sighing. Unimpressed, I can tell.

"Yes, sir, I'm positive. I was trying to catch them, and just, sort of... got lost," I say, earnestly.

"Well, I'll let you off with a warning," he says, irritably. "But you're Luke's sister. If I catch you again..." I leave, but am still lost. This time, Mr. Smith's dragging someone. I recognize the tall, tanned body. The head of strawberry blonde hair that hasn't been washed in about a decade, and the dark brown eyes that he shares with me.

"Hey, Jane," Luke winces, "What are you doing here?"

"Got lost," I mumble, flushing a little.

"Well, the chewing-out never lasts long. Wait here and I'll take you back," he suggests. I flush again. Five minutes later, he comes out, and leads me off to the Hufflepuff Common room. Will the mortification ever end?

"So, what were you doing out of bed?" I ask, suspiciously.

"Scorpius was making a fuss about something, got stuck outside the portrait hole. I think he forgot the password," He says, glancing back at me, "What were you doing?"

"Woke up early, heard someone trying to break in, got lost chasing them," I say. Something clicks in my brain, "You don't think that Scorpius..."

"Nah, don't believe it," he says as we turn a corner to reach the barrels, "See you around."

I knock on the barrel and clamber through. It's gotten lighter and more people are up, including Kate. She runs over to me and, as per-usual, starts talking incredibly fast.

"Thereyouare,Jane! Everyonewaslookingforyouandd idyouhearthatsomeonewastryin gtobreakin? Weallthoughthatyouhadforgott enthepasswordorsomething!"

"No, Kate, but I was following the person who did try," I say, slightly annoyed by her non-stop talking.

"Did you catch them?"

"No," I sigh, annoyed, this time, by my own incompetence, "Come on, I'm starving."


End file.
